The Intruder
by per ardua
Summary: Someone is in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rated T for mild language -- and the towel.


The Intruder

A/N: Thanks to Asterisk 78 for the beta read.

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe. If I did, it wouldn't be "fanfiction".

Andy swiped the scanner along the doorjamb, trying to trigger the electric lock. He squeezed his hands to try and stop them shaking. This assignment made him nervous. He honestly hadn't thought their source was good enough to get him this far. That was part of why he'd finally agreed to go. He figured he'd make an effort, be blocked, and be back at the office with a few hours to kill before lunch. The fact that he had made it past the first gate unnerved him. Even in the uniform he was wearing, he was nervous of someone seeing him. Charlie told him once that no one ever noticed the janitors. He really hoped that was true. He raked his teeth over his lip swiped again, more securely.

The lock beeped softly and the door clicked open. The door was heavy as he pushed it open and moved into the room before someone saw him loitering in the hall. Closing the door behind him, he heard water running and tried not to panic. He had randomly selected a door in what looked to be a dorm of some kind. He had thought at this time of day, he would have an easier time finding something useful in personnel quarters than an office. Honestly, he thought his chances of getting caught were lowered, too. He hesitated. He had thought all the rooms would be empty, but from the sounds of it, someone was taking a shower. He could go try another door. He shook his head. Unlocking this door had taken longer than he thought. If people were around, there was a greater chance of someone walking by and there was no way he could explain what he was doing. If by some chance he did get into another room, there was no guarantee that there wouldn't be someone on the other side, waiting for him to come through.

He took a deep breath and listened to the shower running. At least here he had a sort of warning system. He would look around until heard the water stop. As soon as the water stopped, he would be gone. He let out another breath to try to stop from hyperventilating. He would be just fine.

The room was pretty bare. The beds didn't look like standard military issue and neither did the rest of the furniture. It just looked neat: clean, but otherwise unremarkable. He didn't see any pictures around or much of anything else that looked personal. He scanned the titles in the bookshelf. He recognized a few. It looked like a cross section of classics, novels, some reference-type materials, and some he couldn't even read. He realized a moment later that they weren't in English.

He straightened and looked around the room again. This was going nowhere fast. He just needed one thing. Just one thing to prove he'd actually been there. He didn't even care anymore if he got what he came for. He just wanted to prove he'd done his job and maybe they'd send someone else next time. The top couple of drawers in the desks showed pens, paper clips and blank paper. The trash bin was empty. What was the deal? Everyone always threw the important stuff away. That was how spies found things when they went spying. Not that he was a spy, exactly, but he had made it this far; he should at least have something to show for it.

There were two doors besides the one that led to the hall. He listened at the first one. The sound of the shower running was definitely stronger. Bathroom. That meant the other one. . . he opened the door to the closet. Bingo. He'd find a jacket or something. People always left things in the pockets, right? He spotted some leather and pushed a dress out of the way to get a better look. Dress? He looked back at it. It hadn't occurred to him until just then that a woman was living here. Unless it was a man in drag. That might be something to report.

The sound of a click pulled his attention back. The gun barrel caught his notice first. He had to force himself not to empty his bladder. The second thing he noticed was that the dress in the closet definitely didn't belong to a man.

She was wearing a white towel, holding a gun. And she didn't look happy. He tried to smile.

"This is awkward."

She didn't say anything. He couldn't tell if that was good or bad.

"You obviously weren't expecting me. They must have sent me to the wrong room." Silence. If it weren't for the gun, this wouldn't be such a bad situation. He wasn't dead yet. He took that as a good sign. The towel was a little long, but what he saw looked good. He'd always been pretty successful with women, and that might be the only way he was going to make it out of there. Water was dripping from her wet hair, making puddles on the floor, but she was ignoring it. He was sure he had seen something like this in a movie once. What would James Bond do?

Andy tried for a charming smile. "You know, this could be a story we tell our grandchildren." His smile broadened. This was going to work. He could do this.

"It's a story more likely to show up in your obituary." She lowered the gun. He let out a breath. She fired, barely missing his feet.

"Are you crazy?" The gun was pointed at him again and he wondered how much longer he could keep his pants dry. James Bond would have brought his own gun. Now that he thought about it, there was probably a reason 007 tended to wear a tux and not a janitor's uniform. "What is wrong with you? I get the wrong room and you try to kill me?"

"No. If I had tried to kill you, I would have."

"Are you insane?" He didn't even know why he asked. The answer seemed obvious.

"You are in a restricted area of a military facility. You are in no position to ask questions."

The door opened behind him. He was almost relieved to see them arrive, even if it did mean he was caught. He felt his hands pulled behind his back, bound. He finally saw the gun lower completely to her side. He was turned to the door and almost backed into his captor when he saw a snarling Rottweiler in the doorway. The man that came up behind the dog seemed to snarl more quietly.

"Easy, Junkyard." He nudged the dog with his knee and he moved passed Andy and into the room to sit next to the psycho bitch in the towel. "Thanks for direction. We've been looking for this guy."

"For me? You were looking for me?" How could they have possibly have been looking for him?

The man nodded, but spoke to the woman. "Lady Jaye said she noticed some guy she didn't recognize skulking around in a janitor's uniform. We heard the shot and figured it was him."

Andy tried to walk on his own power. He was going to kill Charlie.

Cover Girl watched Snake Eyes lead the intruder from the room. As soon as he was gone, she ejected the clip from her Berretta, pulled back the slide and caught the round as it flew from the side. She dropped the gun and its contents on the bed. Mutt crossed his arms. "You okay?"

"Fine. I'm just going to –" she pointed to the bathroom, but Duke and Lady Jaye came through the door before she could finish her sentence.

"You got him."

She nodded to Jaye. "Thanks for spotting him in the first place."

She shrugged. "Spend enough time in disguise, you recognize one when you see one."

"I want to know how he made it this far. Even if Cover Girl hadn't locked the door, he shouldn't have made it down here."

"The door was locked."

Duke nodded. "I'm just saying that's one more thing to worry about. He not only made it onto base, he made it down here and into this room. Do you realize how many locked doors and checkpoints he would have had to pass to make it this far?"

"Seven." Three Joes answered in unison.

"I heard they caught an intruder?"

Lady Jaye turned to Clutch standing in the doorway. "We were just discussing that."

"That's only part of it. Who was he and what exactly did he want?" Duke was looking at Cover Girl. Everyone was.

"I have no idea. We didn't exactly have an in-depth conversation. He tried to pass himself off as a janitor with bad directions. I figured the less I said the better."

"How did you find him?"

She sighed and held onto her towel. "I was in the shower when I heard a noise out here. I left the water running – oh, the water." She heard the squeak of the faucet and the water stopping. Mutt came back into the room, shaking the water off his hand.

"Anyone have a towel?"

Her glare didn't stop him from grinning at her, but at least he didn't laugh. "As I was saying, I left the water running, grabbed a towel and my gun, and found him out here."

"Excuse me." Clutch raised his hand, whether for permission to speak or to stop anyone else from speaking, she wasn't sure. "Are you saying that you take your gun into the bathroom when you take a shower?"

"Luckily for me."

"Does anyone else find that bizarre?"

"Oh, by all means, let's focus on my arming habits, shall we?"

"What the hell is going on here?"

Courtney closed her eyes at the new voice and prayed for patience.

"I heard there were shots fired."

"Shot. One shot." She twisted her towel a little closer as Beach Head elbowed his way into the room. "As for what's going on, apparently, my room is now first choice for debriefing sessions. The open door while I'm dressed in nothing but terry cloth is just a bonus for anyone who happens to be walking past."

Duke colored slightly. "You're right. Sorry, Courtney. I was distracted by the intruder."

Clutch laughed. "She's dressed like that and you were distracted by the intruder?"

"Let's go everyone."

Mutt paused on his way past her. "Do you want to borrow Junk?"

She smiled at Junkyard. "I always want to borrow Junk, but I'm fine, really."

Junkyard whined, apparently unconvinced.

Clutch poked his head back in the door. "Your room for debriefing sessions. You realize that was a bad choice of words, don't you?"

"Everyone out."

Junkyard whined again. "You can stay."


End file.
